Grimoire
by lmeden
Summary: Books had always loved Harry. A tale of seven years.


TITLE: Grimoire  
AUTHOR: lmeden  
PAIRING: none  
RATING: PG

WARNINGS: Character Death, Insanity  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Numerous references to the books were required to write this, as was the use of Latin dictionaries and miscellaneous other reference materials. But I'm not following canon precisely, so no one be offended.

SUMMARY: Books had always loved Harry. A tale of seven years.  
NOTE: The entire premise of this fic was inspired by Sinick and Acid's "Two Lockets" (.com/2007%20winter%20games/Team%20Wartime/Two%20Lockets,%20by%20Sinick%20and%). If you haven't read it, do – it's phenomenal. I was inspired by their idea of Dark Magic books that are alive, almost, and wanted to base a fic around the idea, since I thought that it was wonderful. As I planned it out, the story went somewhere I hadn't expected, but was actually better than I had expected. So, be prepared for a surprise at the end.

-------

Books had always loved Harry.

And he had always hated books.

Perhaps this was because, when Harry was young and living with the Dursleys, his schoolbooks had a tendency to creep up under his bedcovers and snuggle up to him while he slept. And with his family suspicious of him already, he did not want to seem even stranger.

So he ignored his books and pushed them away when he found them curled close to him – besides, they never did anything when he was watching.

----

It wasn't until he entered Hogwarts that he learned that books could do so much more.

It was night – the middle of the night – and the fires were out throughout the entire school. Only the moonlight in the windows was left to guide him. Harry clutched his invisibility cloak close around him as he slipped into the library and into the Restricted Section.

He had to find a book on Nicolas Flamel. He had to. That was the key to it all, and if he didn't figure out who Flamel was he knew that something terrible would happen.

He looked up at the books sitting restlessly on their shelves. No book had ever moved directly in front of him before. Their shufflings sent chills down his spine. Harry's lips parted and he watched the books with wide eyes. They were alive.

He nearly jumped as his fingers suddenly came into contact with a smooth spine. He had not realized that he had been reaching forward. Glancing around and seeing nothing moving other than the trembling of books on their shelves, gathered his courage and touched the book more firmly.

It was soft like fur – but the spine didn't look like fur, he saw as he squinted. With a sudden swipe Harry drew his hand down the row of books. They were all-different and felt different. Fingerling trembles shot up his arm and he gasped at the glorious feeling of these books – so beautiful, so alive.

They let out soft gasps as his hand passed over them.

Harry pulled back, nearly gasping at the loss of contact and stared at the books with wide eyes for a moment. Then he shook himself. Flamel. He had to find a book on Flamel. He closed his eyes to try and focus and avoid the distractions of the books.

But when he opened his eyes again, there was a book perched the desk in front of him. It was standing on its edges, not lying down. And its pages rustled as Harry stared. Harry reached out to the book, but it did nothing further.

The book seemed to slip into Harry's hands. One moment he was nearly touching it, and the next he was holding it. It was warm, and Harry somehow felt pleased to hold it.

As he was holding one cover in each hand, the book flipped open, its pages blurring until it settled. Harry blinked a bit, then looked at the page. In golden letters at the top was the name 'Nicolas Flamel'.

Harry gasped and smiled, rushing forward to put the book onto the desk so that he could read. The light was dim, though. The only read that he had been able to read the name was that the letters seemed fashioned of pure metal sunken into the parchment.

He pulled his wand out and glanced around. The books rustled slightly, yet he felt reassured. Glancing around once more Harry cupped his hand around and whispered "_Lumos."_

He read as quickly as possible. _Flamel, what is it about Flamel_?

'Nicolas Flamel was born September 28, 1330 in Paris, France. As a child…'

Harry began to skim the writing. It was several pages long and very in-depth. A phrase caught his eye.

'…legendary alchemist in the Muggle world, though he managed to hide his experimentation in Dark Magic from Muggle authorities for many years. At the time legal repercussions were varied and rarely properly carried out, though Flamel's frequent use of dead bodies – which he had dug up himself from such varied places as the _Cimetière des Innocents, __Cimetière de Montmartre, __Cimetière du Montparnasse, __Cimetière de Passy_, and at times bones from the _Ca__tacombes de Paris_ – must have been so obvious as to test even the well-documented obliviousness of Muggle authorities.

'His experimentations were varied, often consisting of his animating the rotting bodies and/or bones with magic now considered very Dark and testing his latest version of the now infamous Philosopher's Stone upon the specimens.

'In one particular experiment recorded in his extensive journals – which will be discussed further later (see p. 529) he succeeded in restoring a degree of animation to a corpse, and in the interest of testing the strength of this animation he attached the head of another freshly killed corpse to the animated one at the juncture of the neck, on the right side. Unfortunately, this monster did not live long,(1357, bk.18, 88). It has been proven by further, more contemporary testing....'

Harry gasped and pulled his eyes away. _Oh,_ that was so horrible. This Flamel sounded like the worst sort of wizard, the absolute worst.

"How could the Headmaster let _anything_ related to that man into the school?" he whispered desperately. He was beginning to think that maybe Hagrid had been mistaken. Maybe he had gotten the names mixed up.

Harry really couldn't believe that Professor Dumbledore would have anything to do with this Flamel. It seemed so impossible. As Harry thought, the book shifted and hissed, rearranging its pages yet again.

Harry looked up and, dreading what he would find, brought his wand closer to the new page. It was headed with grand letters and the phrase, '_The Philosopher's Stone"_.

Harry read the next words carefully, ready to pull away if anything gross or Dark Magic-y popped up.

'The Philosopher's Stone is, by simplest definition, a piece of alchemical magic bound to a small stone that has the capability of perfecting any substance (turning any metal into gold falls into this distinction, though the greed inherent in such an assumption makes this property suspect), curing disease, and bringing the dead back to life. Supposedly formed by a union of "the true, the beautiful, and the good", variably association with Christ and other Muggle deities, and considered to be a symbol of "incorruptible wisdom" in contemporary society, the stone's origins are hotly debated (Anderson 1859, Alchemy Journal). Though, considering the fact that its creator, Nicolas Flamel – a notorious practitioner of Dark Magic, was never known to practise Dark Magic again after the stone's creation, the legends concerning its hallowed origins may hold some weight.'

That was it. It must be. That was what Voldemort was after – the Philosopher's Stone. Harry grinned and the book slithered closed. He had to show this book to Hermione. She'd be able to find more in it then he could.

As he reached for it again, the book shifted, lifted into the air, and slid into an empty a spot on the shelves. The books on the all the shelves were suddenly lifeless- like every other book he'd seen in his life. Harry reached up to grab it, but as he moved, there was a sound behind him.

Muttering. Filch.

_No_, Harry thought. He snatched his invisibility cloak up from the floor, struggled to throw it onto himself, and backed out of the library, listening carefully for any sign of the mad old caretaker.

He'd simply have to tell Hermione what he had found, since he couldn't bring her the book.

---

She managed to restrain herself until they reached breakfast the next morning. Harry wanted to tell Hermione what he had found, but he hadn't found a private time to do so since he had fallen asleep straightaway last night. He would have to wait till later in the day, he supposed.

As Harry pulled some bacon onto his plate and Ron shoveled the rest onto his, Hermione plopped down next to them. She began to grab some food without looking and leaned close to Harry.

"So, what happened?"

Harry looked around warily, but no one was paying them any attention at all. Even Ron seemed to have taken no notice of her words. Hermione was simply chewing on a piece of bacon, eyebrow raised at him.

Harry leaned closer. "I found him. He was horrible – really, really horrible – all Dark Magic and dead people. It was terrible."

Hermione pursed her lips and glared at her toast. "That doesn't make any sense," she hissed. "Dumbledore wouldn't have, well, he couldn't—"

Harry waved at her. "No, no, I thought of that. I kept looking, though, and I think I know what's so important about him."

He glanced around again and saw that Ron was leaning in, though still eating. No one else was paying any attention. "Flamel made the Philosopher's Stone." Harry watched Hermione closely, and wasn't disappointed.

She gasped, then grabbed her toast, shoveled eggs onto it, snatched her bag from the floor, and managed to take Harry with her as she fairly flew out the door. Harry stumbled in shock for a moment, then got his feet under him.

_Mad, _she was.

---

Diagon Alley was hot, even at the end of summer. Harry was just glad to have been able to come. The Dursleys had been so against it...but then Ron and the twins had come, so everything was fine.

And now all they had left to buy were books. As they entered Flourish & Blots the great crowd in the shop stopped them at the door. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged. Harry saw that Mrs Weasley was tugging on Mr Weasley's sleeve and looking excitedly toward the front of the crowd. Harry stood on his tiptoes, but still couldn't see what all the fuss was about. He hated being short.

Glancing around, he slipped through the crowd and toward the shelves of books. Once there he smiled. It wasn't crowded at all, and the clamor of the crowd was muted.

Harry smiled as he walked down the quiet rows of shelves. He pulled out his list of books and read it out loud. He waited a moment, and suddenly the books began to shift. He followed their movements down the rows until a couple books slid out of their shelves and he reached up to grab them.

Harry repeated this a few more times until he had all the books on the list. As soon as they touched his hands the books stopped moving completely and he could balance them in a pile. They wouldn't move again, he knew. Only certain books moved all the time. Most simply moved a little at a time, when requested. Carefully balancing the books, Harry walked out of the shelves.

Someone near him gasped, "Harry Potter!" Harry winced and tried to move away, but he couldn't move very fast because of the pile of books and soon the cry was echoing across the store. The crowd suddenly quieted, and Harry was being pushed and pulled to the front. He tried to stay back but couldn't, not against so many. And he didn't want to fight.

Suddenly Harry was pushed forward into an open space. He barely managed to hold onto his books as he stumbled. There was someone standing in the open area, he saw from the corner of his eye, and looked up.

He flinched back when he saw that the person standing above him was wearing bright purple robes, had wild curly gold hair, and burning blue eyes. Harry simply stared.

Who was this? He was worse then Dumbledore with his clothes and such, and that was saying something.

Suddenly the man bent and spoke in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"_Harry Potter!_ How _wonderful_ to see you! _I _can see that _you _have come for _my_ _autograph_!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest but was dragged forward and shortly blinded by the flashes of cameras.

---

The students were crowded close to the temporary stage.

Harry stood and stared at Malfoy's insolent face further down the dueling stage. He was a complete git, Malfoy was. Harry hated him. Suddenly Malfoy moved and the duel had begun. "_Serpensortia!_" Malfoy cried.

The spell shot out faster than Harry could think and he gasped and stared at the huge snake that now lay coiled on the floor of the stage. It looked back at him for a moment then began to slither toward the side of the stage, where the students were.

"No!" Harry shouted. He had no idea why he was trying to talk to the snake, but he wasn't thinking clearly. "Stop! Don't eat them!" Harry's heart beat fast and his eyes widened. What could he do? He had no idea how to dispell a spell like this. Damn Malfoy for being so clever.

Suddenly there was a tall presence behind him and an unmistakable voice hissed out, "_Finite Incantatem._" The snake vanished like smoke.

Snape slipped around him and stared at the ground where the snake had been. He glanced at Malfoy then turned to Harry, his face a vicious sneer of contempt.

"You stupid fool," he sneered. "What were you doing? Trying to _talk_ to it?"

Harry blushed and backed away. He had been trying to talk to it. He hadn't been able to think of anything else to do, at the moment. Well, that obviously hadn't worked. The crowd dissolved in to whispers around him and as Snape turned to speak to Malfoy Harry slipped off the stage. Ron and Hermione found him fairly quickly.

Ron quirked an eyebrow at him. "Trying to talk to snakes?" he asked.

"Shut up," Harry snarled as he pushed past.

Hermione's hand seized onto his arm, pulling them both out of the crowd. "Honestly, stop arguing." She sounded excited to Harry. "We'll just have to go the library and find some better ways of dealing with snakes. Besides, we have research to do. Don't you want to know what the monster is in the Chamber?" She flashed them both a smile and strode forward, letting them go.

Ron groaned but followed. Harry followed as well, his anger and humiliation and frustration fading away. Finally, a project to go to the library for. He hadn't had a chance to go into the library and talk to the books for so long. Grinning, he gladly left the Great Hall and the muttering crowds.

---

He had never been so grateful to his books. Ron had given him a horribly strange looked when he had run back to the Tower to grab a book to bring to the Chamber of Secrets. It seemed as if he thought Harry was mad. But as soon as Harry had opened the book and found the spell that he was looking for, Ron had been terribly impressed.

Harry had been impressed, too. Hermione had done loads of research, and Harry had asked his books, and they had finally figured out that the monster in the Chamber was a basilisk. It was really the only creature that petrified other things. And Harry had found a book that promised get them into the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry would have let Ron handle it, but the book tried to eat Ron's hand when it got near him, so Harry had taken charge.

Harry stared at the spell on the page. It was frighteningly complex, but if it worked...

Slowly Harry read the long spell aloud, taking care to read the foreign words correctly. Nothing happened. He waited a moment, then bit his lips and tried again. Maybe he had pronounced something wrong. The words were Latin and difficult, but he _had_ to get into the Chamber. He had to save Ginny!

He began reading again, but almost halfway through Ron snarled at him, "Oh, just let me!" He reached out to snatch the book but the book writhed in Harry's hands and nearly wound itself around Ron's fingers. Harry pulled it away. He took a deep breath and looked at the words again.

As he read the words this time he simply said them and didn't focus on pronunciation. He wished as he said them that the spell would work. And amazingly, it did.

For as he read the last words of the spell, he heard his voice emerge as a terrifying hiss. And the sink before them lifted up and opened. Harry stared down into the deep hole and grinned at Ron, excitement and fear wound up within him. Ron gave him a thumbs-up and jumped down into the hole. Eyes wide, Harry followed.

The fall was long and took Harry's breath. As he fell he clutched the book close to his chest. It snuggled closer to him. Luckily they landed on something forgiving, but the jolt was still jarring.

Whatever Harry had landed on was crunching beneath him, but he couldn't gain his balance enough to fetch out his wand. He heard Ron cursing, "Bloody hell," nearby, and soon they had light. It was a wavering and oddly colored light, as it was coming from the tip of Ron's secondhand wand, but it was light.

And they were sitting on bones. Harry gasped and struggled up, the book found so tight around him that he didn't even need to touch it for it to come with him. Ron followed him, cursing, of the bones. They both kicked away the small bones that he tangled themselves in their pant-legs and back away from the terrible little graveyard.

Then, after shooting each other disbelieving looks, they glanced around.

The ceiling was high and the air thick and damp. As the light on Ron's wand dimmed and wavered, Harry managed to pull his own wand out and lit it up. The light was strong and as Ron's flickered out he frowned at it. "I hate this wand."

Harry grimaced at him and nodded in understanding. He felt grateful that his wand worked well. It was _his_ wand, and he loved it. They walked together down the dark hall in front of them.

They walked for a time, and found another door that had to be opened using parseltongue. Luckily the spell from earlier was still in effect, and Harry was able to open the door.

The book released its hold on him and Harry clutched it close and as he crept into the Chamber. He could see Ginny lying there on the cold, damp floor with her hair spread out like a dark flame around her head. Ron rushed forward, and Harry followed close behind. They fell to their knees next to her. Harry barely noticed the pain of the landing in his panic, and seized her hand. It was chill. He froze in fear and the book slid to the floor next to him. She wasn't dead, she couldn't be.

What would he do if she was dead? Harry closed his eyes tightly and took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. Then Ron's hand was on his arm, gripping tightly, and Harry hissed. The spell had not yet worn off.

He turned to Ron in anger, but the boy was staring straight ahead, and was deathly pale, is eyes wide. Harry followed the line of his gaze, and his eyes fell upon the hem of dark robes. There was someone standing just beyond Ginny. Harry's eyes whipped up to fix on dark eyes.

"Tom!" Harry gasped, still speaking in the snake language. He was amazed to see the personality of one of the books that he had found - or had found him - standing directly in front of him. The small diary that Tom had inhabited had been the most lifelike and active of any book that Harry had ever seen, but no book had ever physically manifested in front of him. He was amazed and pulled the book he had dropped closer. If Tom could come alive, perhaps all books could.

Ron was glaring darkly from next to Harry. "You know him, mate?"

Harry nodded, knowing tat Ron wouldn't understand him if he spoke. Harry smiled and stood. "I'm so glad to see you, Tom." Harry stepped around Ginny and beckoned the older boy closer. Tom stepped forward, his face unreadable.

Harry opened his mouth to speak again, then stopped. He knew Tom wouldn't be able to understand him, not with the spell on his voice still active. He hesitated, then fell to his knees and rustled through the book. He had to end the spell. They were in the Chamber, and needed Tom's help to save Ginny. What could it hurt?

"As I am glad to see _you_, Harry." Tom's voice echoed in the Chamber and Harry froze. The older boy had spoken in parseltongue. From what Harry knew of the language, it was invariably associated with either Dark Magic, or the Slytherin line.

Harry looked up in alarm. This could be dangerous, very dangerous. He turned to look at Ron, to warn him, but the other boy was already backing away. Ron had his wand raised and pointed at Tom. "Harry, I don't trust him. That snake language is Dark Magic. If he can speak it without a spell…well…"

Ron trailed off and Harry watch both Tom and Ron warily. He didn't want Ron hurt. He began easing his wand out of his pocket. He wished that he could _say something_.

"I don't know how you know him, Harry, but I don't trust him," Ron continued. I mean, we had to get through some tricky obstacle to even get in here, and here this guy is, waiting, with my sister unconscious and _cold_ on the floor." Ron's voice cracked and his jaw worked. His voice kept rising as he grew more panicked. "I don't trust him!"

Tom smiled. "So you aren't stupid after all." Harry's head whipped over to watch him. "You are right to not trust me. Did you know of those wonderful things that the human body can be used for? There are many things that a human life can accomplish."

Harry's heart sunk. Tom was talking about the very Darkest of Dark Magic. The older boy stooped down and passed a hazy hand over Ginny's face and smiled up at Ron, taunting him. "I am simply using her to create a body of my own."

Quicker than Harry could move, Ron swept his wand around and cried, "_Petrificus Totalus!_" But Harry saw the spell falter halfway up Ron's repaired wand, and fell to the ground with a thud, stiff.

Harry stared for a moment, at his best friend, then wheeled on Tom with his wand out. Tom was mad. Tom flicked his hand, and with a lazy "_Expelliarmus,_" Harry's wand was in his hand.

Stunned and heart pounding, Harry quickly glanced for the book that he had brought, but couldn't see it. He could only watch Tom.

"But...but you're a book. I don't-"

"Don't be a fool, Harry Potter." Tom's voice caressed Harry's name, making him shiver in apprehension. "I have not always been a book. How do you think that I knew about the Chamber of Secrets? _I_ am the Dark Lord."

And with a wave of Harry's wand he wrote the letters of his name in the air. The burning letters rearranged themselves into the phrase, _I Am Lord Voldemort_.

Harry could only stare. None of this made sense. "This is mad. Tom, you're a book. You can't be...be _Voldemort_." Tom simply smiled.

"I am. And I've wanted to meet you, Harry, for a very long time." He turned and strode away. The instant his attention was off Harry, the boy bent and found the book he had brought with him. He crouched with it near Ginny and Ron's bodies.

Tom began speaking in parseltongue, shouting as he stared at a hideous statue perched on the other end of the Chamber. "Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four..." As Tom spoke Harry grabbed hold of Ginny's arms and tried to move her back towards the entrance. She was deceptively heavy, and he could only shift her a few inches.

His head whipped up again when, with and massive groan and grind, the mouth of a great statue on the far side of the Chamber opened. And a terrible snake slithered out. Harry turned his head quickly away. This had to be the basilisk that haunted the Chamber. Harry let go of Ginny and glanced at he and Ron. He had to figure something out. He had to stop this monster and save his friends – and do it without his wand.

Suddenly the book wriggled against Harry's chest. He pulled it away from himself and it flipped open. The pages were blank.

And then across them appeared the word, 'RUN'. The snake slithered loudly across the stone. Harry's heart beat faster and faster as it grew closer. He couldn't leave them. He threw the book aside and hauled on Ginny with all her might, managing to move he next to Ron. Suddenly there was a loud bang behind Harry and without thinking he whirled around.

The snake had dove down and as Harry watched it swallowed the book he had brought.

Harry nearly cried out, but held himself back. Instead he bent back down and began dragging Ginny again. For a small girl, she was _so_ heavy. He struggled with her, then moved faster when he realized that he could hear the great snake moving behind him. He reached out and grabbed Ron's hand, attempting to drag them both. Well, he was running now.

He hoped that those few seconds the book had given him would not be wasted. Harry moved faster and faster, as fast as he could, and was nearly to the entrance to the Chamber when the sound of the snake behind him ceased.

Suddenly there was a great shriek, but Harry didn't stop moving. Tom's voice cried out and then there was complete silence but for the scrape of Ron and Ginny being dragged behind him.

Harry kept dragging Ginny and Ron along behind him, inch by inch, but the silence didn't end. Slowly he stopped and glanced back. The great snake - and it was _enormous_, how had he not seen that before? - was lying on the floor of the Chamber, mere feet from him, completely still. Harry stared at it. It was dead.

Harry smiled with relief and moved to grasp his friends again. He only had to get out of the Chamber and away from Tom. Ginny was still cool, and growing colder. He looked back to the far end of the Chamber. Tom still stood there, glaring at him. He would have to stop Tom quickly, before Ginny died. So, now.

Laying Ginny gently down next to her brother, Harry took off his battered robe and covered them with it. Then he started off around the snake, and toward Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord, at the other end of the Chamber of Secrets.

Tom simply watched him, and when Harry grew close, raised Harry's wand. "You're a fool, Potter. You couldn't defeat the basilisk on your own, and you can't defeat me. Your precious Ginny will die. Very soon." He smiled. "And I'm sure that I can find a use for her brother."

Harry snarled at the older boy. That bastard. To think that he could stand there, smirking, with Harry's wand in his hand. He wanted to kill Ginny and Ron. He wanted to kill everyone, and he would if he came back to life. Well, Harry wouldn't let him. As Harry walked closer and closer, he glanced around.

Then he saw it. Lying on the floor near the water was the journal that Tom had come from. Harry knew just how to destroy Tom, as soon as he had found the journal.

But he needed time to get to it. So he turned to Tom. "Why are you doing this? If you must live, there are other ways, better ways."

"Better ways? No, there are but few ways, and none so simple. And besides, I must take whatever _pleasures_ I can." As he spoke his eyes drifted slowly to Ginny. Harry pale with anger.

"How dare you, you pervert, you never even _tried_, you could have _asked _a book, you didn't have to take Ginny!"

"Ah," Tom smirked. "So stupid. It is obvious that that meddling old man could do nothing to teach you. The fool of a Headmaster obviously wants everyone to believe his nonsense. _Asking books_." Tom laughed viciously, and Harry's hate grew.

"How dare you! The Headmaster is a better man than anyone you've even _met_. And you wouldn't stand a chance against him! Never! You know _nothing_ about magic!" In his anger Harry nearly forgot his goal. That book. He had to get that book.

Tom's laughter stopped suddenly. "_You…_accuse _me_, of not knowing anything about magic?" he hissed, made all the more menacing by the fact that the conversation was spoken solely in parseltongue.

The older boy moved forward, Harry's wand out and mouth opening, no doubt to kill him. Harry flinched, then thought desperately. He needed more time!

Tom froze as a trill broke out above him. It was a stunning sound, and out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Tom look up as well. From above came Fawkes, the Headmaster's phoenix. It was stunning, trailing strands of fire behind it. Harry's breath caught at its beauty. Help!

Then , as it came closer, Harry saw that it was carrying a hat - the sorting hat, in fact. Harry bit his lip and looked back at Riddle. He was still watching the phoenix. But Harry was confused. This was obviously help, but how could he use the sorting hat to defeat the Dark Lord? Slowly Fawkes came to the ground and landed, leaving the sorting hat behind him, near Harry.

As it hit the floor, there was a metallic clank.

Harry stared at the hat, surprised, and a shining piece of silver rolled slightly out of it. He glanced up at the phoenix, but it had disappeared. Tom was watching him.

"Ah," he sneered. "The old man sends his pet bird and hat. How..._impressive_."

Harry hated him. He took a cautious over to the hat and reached inside, quickly picking up the silver piece. Whatever it was, if the Headmaster had sent it, it would be helpful. And as he drew it out, and out, and out, he saw that it was a sword.

A beautiful sword that shimmered silver and blue and like fire in the dim light. Harry's breath caught and for an instant he forgot about everything that was troubling him. Then it came back, but he smiled. _This_ was his weapon against Tom.

With it he would never lose.

Tom was watching him. "Have they added lessons in swordplay to the curriculum, then?" he mocked. So Harry smiled and hefted the sword and ran away from Tom. The older boy burst out laughing.

"Coward!" he cried. Harry simply smiled to himself and ran to the diary that lay prone on the floor. As he grew closer he shifted the sword and prepared himself and Tom's laughter suddenly stopped.

"No!" he shrieked. Then Harry brought the sword down, stabbing it through the book and jarring himself so badly that he fell to the floor. He clutched his stinging hands close to himself and twisted to see the diary. The sword stood up straight, impaled like the fabled sword and stone. But this stone was bleeding. The diary seemed to almost weep dark blood, and across the Chamber, Tom cried out in pain.

Harry gasped in relief, then turned to look at Ginny. She was sitting up and smiling softly, and when he touched her hand it curled around his.

---

Ron woke them up with his screaming. Harry jerked in his bed, heart pounding, and ripped the curtains aside. They stuck and so he pushed through them, heavy books that he cuddled close to him as he slept slipping to the floor with a bang as he stumbled out of bed.

Ron's curtains were already open and he looked shocked. Seamus and Dean stumbled over, and a loud crash from the other end of the room indicated that Neville was up.

"He was here! He was here!" Ron cried.

That couldn't be anything good. Trying to stay calm, Harry reached out and shook Ron's shoulder. "Ron, calm down, no one's here."

Ron's eyes whipped over to meet his, and they were wide. "He was here, he really was!"

"Who, Ron?" drawled Seamus, unimpressed.

"Sirius Black! Standing over me! With a KNIFE!"

"Ron, that can't be." Dean said, but he glanced nervously at the rest of the boys. Sirius Black was a very real danger. But Ron was getting really hysterical. Harry tried to calm him down.

"Ron, don't worry, he isn't here now. And the teachers are coming." He glanced at the others, and Seamus nodded and headed out of the room. As they waited for a professor to come, Ron calmed down. And they finally were able to understand what had happened.

Apparently he had been woken by a noise, and looming above him was Sirius Black. The man had been dirty, and had smelled, and was holding a knife. So Ron had screamed, and the man had run.

As Ron gestured and pointed, Harry noticed that the curtains of Ron's bed were ripped and sliced to shreds. He swallowed nervously, fear pooling in his stomach.

"I'm just glad," Ron continued seriously, "that he found my bed and not Harry's." He turned to Harry. "You know, if I hadn't screamed, he might've gotten you. I saved your life, you know."

Harry smiled faintly and nodded. Ron really had.

Finally McGonagall arrived, and sent Harry off to the Hospital Wing with Ron. She seemed greatly worried by what Ron had said, and rushed off somewhere.

When they got to the hospital wing, they had to wait for Madame Pomfrey to come out of her office, and Ron plopped himself on a bed and turned to Harry.

"Harry, you've always got those advanced books around. Do you think you could set up a ward, or something? You know, something to keep Black away from us? We should've done it ages ago."

Just then, Hermione burst into the hospital wing, hair askew and school robes haphazardly wrapped over her pajamas.

"Ron, I heard what happened! You're alright?" Ron just nodded, already bored with all the attention.

"Hermione, I was thinking. Why don't we have Harry put some spells up to keep this Black away. He's got all those fancy books." Ron waggled his fingers in Harry's direction, giving him a skeptical look.

Hermione's head snapped over toward Harry and her eyes lit up. "Harry..." Harry sighed and shifted. She couldn't start this again. "Harry, I thought that you had agreed to stop reading those books!" She lowered her voice and stepped closer. "You promised. You promised to stop reading those books from the Restricted Section. You know they're most likely Dark magic. The fact that they're following you around proves it."

"Stop, Hermione. The books are kind, and they like me. Even if they've got some wonky stuff in them, they're not doing any harm. They just like being near me."

"They may be satisfied with that for now, but these books are dangerous. You'd better stop, before I'm forced to report you to McGonagall," she hissed. She smiled at Ron as she glided out of the hospital wing.

Harry shot a glare at Ron, who had been shocked at Hermione's vehemence. "Don't mention that to her again." Ron nodded mutely, eyes wide.

---

Black crouched in front of the three of them, holding Harry's wand in front of him. "Harry, you have to listen me…I didn't do it…you must know…that I didn't kill them!" His pale eyes were desperate and darted around, landing on Scabbers. Ron clutched the rat close.

But Harry wasn't in any mood to listen. Black had disarmed them with Ron's wand as soon as they had entered the bedroom of the Shrieking Shack, and Harry was livid. Black had killed Harry's parents, practically. He had betrayed them in the worst way, and now was asking Harry to listen.

On top of all that, Black had taken Harry's wand, just like Tom had last year. Black was as bad as Voldemort, as far as Harry was concerned.

Harry was extremely grateful that, despite all of Hermione's misgiving about his books and the fact that he had had to hide them from her, he had continued to study from them. He had learned a bit of wandless magic and theory from a couple. He couldn't do too many spells wandlessly, but he could do a couple. All he needed was the right moment, and he could trip up Black.

There was a sudden pounding of footsteps and they all turned to looked quickly at the door. Professor Lupin dashed through the door, wand out. Harry turned back to Black, disappointed when he realized that he had missed his moment. He glared and bit his lip, thinking.

"Sirius," Professor Lupin gasped, jolting Harry from his thoughts. What? They knew each other?

"Remus, you must believe me. It was never me, it was Pettigrew, we switched…please…"

"Peter is dead, Sirius. Why don't you give up the wands and come with me?"

Black shook his head as Harry watched the two of them, bewildered. "I'll show you…you'll see…" He reached out towards Ron, who scrambled backwards, whimpering with the pain of his broken leg.

"Don't touch me," he gasped.

"Not _you_," Black snarled. He stumbled forward and made a grab for Scabbers, who scrambled over Ron's shoulder and behind the bed. Sirius dove down on the floor and began shooting spells at the rat.

Professor Lupin hesitated then lowered his wand slowly. "Sirius…please," he whispered, sounding heartbroken. But Harry barely registered all this. He recognized the spell that Black was shouting. It was the spell to restore and Animagus to its proper form.

The man thought that Ron's rat was an Animagus. And he had been talking about Peter Pettigrew, a dead man. Harry's frown deepened as Scabbers scrambled out from under the bed, zig-zagging to avoid Black's spells.

Harry had never attempted such complex wandless magic. It might be a bad idea, but he had a feeling. He pointed at Scabbers and concentrated, whispering, "_Rectus Restituo_."

A bright light shot out and hit the rat, which promptly twisted and transformed into a small light-haired man. The man kept running for a moment, then froze. Everything was suddenly silent.

"Peter?" Professor Lupin breathed in disbelief. Harry's anger drained away. Black had been telling the truth. Pettigrew was alive. What did that…

Harry's thoughts halted as he heard more footsteps on the stairs. He looked over as Professor Snape burst through the door to the room, eyes wild, and froze when he saw Peter Pettigrew standing in the corner.

---

Harry laughed and turned to Ron, waving the already creased letter happily. "He's in the islands, I know it! Did you see what brought his last letter? It was a parrot. A _parrot_!"

Ron simply nodded. "Yeah, Harry, you've told me a thousand times." He pulled more food onto his plate from a nearby platter.

Hermione leaned over him and eyed both boys. "Honestly, let him talk, Ron. Snuffles only gets to send letters every once in a while. Let him be happy."

Ron mumbled unintelligibly through his food and Harry rolled his eyes. She was unbelievable. Just like a mother, really. His grin faded as he thought that and he let his eyes wander around the hall.

Snape, at the teacher's table, was glaring at the letter Harry held. Harry grinned at his and the man pursed his lips and looked away. The Potions Professor had been there when Sirius had learned about Pettigrew's treachery and his godfather's innocence. Snape knew who the letter was from.

And he clearly wasn't happy about it. Harry understood the man's unhappiness. It wasn't just everyone who was almost killed be a werewolf, even in the Wizarding World. Didn't mean Harry had to be bitter, too.

Harry's eyes fell on the last line of the letter. _Keep a sharp eye out for Wormtail_. Harry swallowed and tucked the letter away. He hated the fact that Pettigrew had escaped. The man had managed to slip away as Professor Lupin had transformed and Sirius and Snape fought off the werewolf.

It made Harry so angry, to think that the man who had gotten his parents killed was out there, wandering around, perhaps hurting other people…

Hermione's hand on his arm pulled him from his dark thoughts. The Headmaster had brought out the Goblet of Fire. They were all about to learn who the champions were for the Triwizard Tournament.

He smiled at Hermione's questioning gaze and turned his eyes to the front. The Headmaster stepped in front of the teacher's table, next to the Goblet itself, and began to speak.

"Welcome! Bienvenue! Dabro Pazhalavat! Tonight we will find out who are Champions are for the Triwizard Tournament!" He paused and the room exploded in whispers and some applause. Harry wondered who would be chosen.

Personally he hoped the Angelina was the Hogwarts Champion. He smiled down the table and held up as crossed fingers at her. She laughed at the gesture and gave him a thumbs-up. Harry saw Fred and George sulking near her. They had tried to get their names into the cup, only to end up with beards.

Of course, Harry could have helped them find a way past the age line – and probably owed them after they had given him the Marauder's Map last year – but he hadn't been interested.

For once, Harry was looking forward to a calm year, where he wouldn't be involved in anything dangerous, and where no one he knew would be hurt or in danger. He was gad that the twins had failed, honestly.

"Now, the Champion for Durmstrang!" Everyone quieted and looked at the Headmaster. The goblet flared and a small slip of paper shot out of the flames. The Headmaster seized it, paused, then read it aloud.

"Viktor Krum!" The heavyset older boy stood, nodded in acknowledgement, and walked to he back room where the champions were meeting. Harry applauded politely.

"The Champion for Beauxbatons!" The Headmaster took the slip and read it aloud.

"Fleur Delacour!" The willowy girl stood and Ron seized Harry's arm.

"It's her! It's her!" her cried, and stared in awe as she drifted by. The applause was much louder this time, covering Hermione's cry of disgust and the crack as she smacked Ron upside the head.

Then, as the noise died down, the Headmaster cried, "The Champion for Hogwarts!"

Everyone gasped and fell silent. Harry leaned forward. On, let it be Angelina. It would be so wonderful to have a Gryffindor Champion. He held his breath as the Headmaster picked the slip of paper out of the air and read it. He paused and the entire school held their breath.

"Cedric Diggory!" The school exploded into applause and Harry sighed. He had no idea what girls saw in that boy. Diggory stood, golden hair swishing and reminding Harry horribly of Lockhart for a moment, before striding proudly out of the hall.

The Headmaster turned away to shake hands with the other school heads and Ministry officials, and so he nearly missed the flaring of the Goblet, and its spitting out of one more slip of paper.

As the students noticed their chattering quieted and fell into soft whispers. The Headmaster turned back and saw the slip, slowly closing his hand around it as it floated towards the floor.

Harry's stomach sank. He had a bad feeling about that slip of paper. But he managed to exchange a bewildered looked with Ron before fixing his eyes on the Headmaster. The old man read the paper to himself, then looked up, eyes running along the Gryffindor table.

In a quiet voice that somehow managed to carry, he said, "Harry Potter."

No!

With a single murmur the entire student population in the Great Hall turned to look at Harry. Numbly, he stood.

---

Harry had always loved his books, but now he was beyond grateful for them. Without them he never could have learned how to defeat that dragon and steal her egg in the First Task. And he certainly would have drowned in the Lake during the Second Task.

But this task was the hardest. Standing in front of the immense hedges of the converted Quidditch pitch, Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. He had not known what to expect in his maze, and he had only been able to look up defensive and directional spells in his books. They had offered him other spells, Dark spells, but he had pushed them away.

It was bad enough that he had to hide his studying at night so that Hermione wouldn't freak out at him.

Harry tried to push all that aside for the moment, and when his name was called, he entered the maze. It was dark in the maze, as if the hedges had a ceiling. He moved cautiously, wand out.

He didn't see anything in front of him, but he knew that he couldn't be too careful with magic. So a few turnings into the maze, he paused.

Harry quickly twisted his wand around and set a few defensive spells around himself – to protect himself against sudden attacks and help to keep his wand in his hand. Though he had never used such spells, he had researched them intensively, and now they were coming in handy.

As Harry walked he grew more nervous. He turned each corner slowly, expecting a surprise, but there were none there. It made him more and more nervous.

There were supposed to be challenges, but he hadn't found any. He worried at his lips with his teeth. Perhaps he was going the wrong way?

Then he heard the scream.

Harry rushed towards the sound of the scream. He hadn't found any obstacles, but someone else obviously had. And it sounded like Fleur. He rushed around the hedges, trying to find an opening in the direction of the scream. More screams. Finally he found an opening in the hedges, and also found Victor Krum standing over Fleur, the girl writhing under his wand.

Harry gasped and fumbled his wand out, cursing himself for having ever put it away. "_Stupefy!_"

Krum fell limply and Harry rushed over to Fleur. She was gasping for breath in the grass. He knelt next to her. "Are you alright? Fleur?" She turned wild eyes towards him and Harry felt cold. She didn't seem to be in her right mind.

He wracked his mind for a spell that might help her. "_Mentis Quiesco_," he whispered, and her eyes slipped closed. Slowly her breathing evened out and Harry sighed with relief. She seemed only to be sleeping.

Harry raised his wand and sent up red sparks. As he moved away he paused and turned, "_Incarcerous_," watching bindings wrap close around Krum. Then he slipped away to try and find the center of the maze, and get this whole thing over with.

Harry wandered around the maze for some time more before he encountered the first of the challenges. It was a sphinx, proudly blocking the way through. He paused. He might be able to find another way - a way around the sphinx - but that would most likely mean that he would be wandering in the maze for hours. The sphinx had been placed her for here a reason. Past her, undoubtedly, lay the Cup.

Harry was relieved to have finally found the way. The sphinx turned her cold eyes to Harry. He swallowed his nervousness, or tried. She had a riddle, and he needed to hear it to go past her. His voice was small when he spoke. "Can I hear the riddle?"

When she smiled her teeth were sharp and her smile crawled too far across her cheeks. Her voice resonated in his head, somewhere between speech and thought.

_First think of the person who lives in disguise,_

_Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

_Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,_

_The middle of middle and end of the end?_

_And finally give me the sound often heard_

_During the search for a hard-to-find word?_

_Now string them together, and answer me this,_

_Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?_

Harry thought hard. How could he solve this riddle? He had no clue of what it could be off the top of his head. Not a single idea. Then a thought occurred to him. He knew a spell that could help him solve puzzles - he had used it with Ron during chess often enough.

He looked back at the sphinx crouching in all her glory. "Can you, repeat the riddle?" She smiled again and nodded. She began to speak, repeating the riddle slowly. As she did so, Harry raised his wand and said, "_Ludus ego_."

The spell was clever and could show him the solution to any problem if cast properly. Ron had banned its use during chess because it had always shown Harry and undefeatable way to defeat him.

When she finished the riddle he looked around, and saw at the bottoms of the hedges, thousands of spiders crawling, coming towards him. He looked at her. "Spider." She nodded and smiled once more, and stepped aside to let him pass.

Relief swept through him, and he stepped quickly past her and around the corner, so that he wouldn't have to look at her anymore.

Soon Harry came upon the center of the maze. He was stunned by what he saw. Cedric had gotten to the Cup before him, but had not yet taken it. Instead he was battling, right in front of the Cup, with a gigantic spider. As Harry stood, rooted by surprise and the grateful consideration that Angelina had not been chosen, Cedric cried out.

The spider had latched onto his leg with a vicious grip. Cedric hit it with several spells but it seemed unaffected. Harry rushed forward. "_Stupefy!_" he cried, but his spell had even less effect on it than Cedric's. He paused to try and think of a spell, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't hurt Cedric.

Then Cedric screamed again, and Harry shot red sparks up. He grabbed a leg of the spider and hauled back, but it turned suddenly, releasing Cedric, and knocked him to the ground. Harry gasped and scrabbled for his wand where it had fallen. At least he could lure it away from Cedric.

Harry crawled backwards, away from the spider, but it moved impossibly fast. He finally grasped his wand and the spider dove down, giant pincers driving for his throat. Frantically he brought his wand up and shouted the first spell that came to mind. "_Leta!_"

The spider contorted and fell apart. Harry scrambled away, gasping with relief. He would have preferred not to use Dark Magic on the thing, but it had been the only thing that came to mind. Heart still pounding, Harry moved over to the Cup and reached out towards it. Now it would be finished.

A though occurred to Harry as he reached out. Cedric. He turned back, only to see Cedric's twisted body, falling apart by the power of the Dark magic that Harry had cast. He had missed, or Cedric had been in the way. The spell had hit Cedric. Harry's spell had hit him.

He screamed in horror, but his fingers brushed the Cup and in that instant he was swept away from the scene of the murder.

---

The portkey spun Harry back onto the Quidditch pitch. He clutched the soft grass between his fingers and looked up. The stands, filled with onlookers, were in an uproar. Professor Dumbledore was striding quickly over to him. When he reached Harry he knelt by him, waving everyone else away. But before he could open his mouth to say a word, Harry gasped, "Voldemort."

Dumbledore waved someone over and Harry was helped up. The Headmaster nodded to Harry seriously. Professor Moody came over and nodded to the Headmaster. He reached out to escort Harry away.

"Don't worry, Harry, we will sort all this out," said the Headmaster.

But Harry couldn't help but notice that the Headmaster's blue eyes were sad and creased with worry as he was taken away.

---

Harry crouched low, tangled in the bedclothes of the bed in the second bedroom of Privet Drive. He should cry, he knew. He shouldn't just sit here. He should have told everyone that he had killed Cedric. He could write that letter now.

Part of his mind screamed that it was an accident but he ignored it. He had killed Cedric, and it didn't matter how. He was a monster.

He was, and he shuddered to think of it, like Voldemort.

The books that surrounded Harry on his bed crowded closer to him, pages opening and closing against him. They were trying to comfort him, but Harry would not be comforted.

Harry had briefly blamed the books for Cedric's death, but he had quickly realized that it was not their fault. Only he could have cast that spell. It was because of the books that Harry had known the death spell in the first place, but Harry had cast the spell in the end. It really was all his fault.

He didn't know why he hadn't told everyone. It had all happened so fast. He had told them about Voldemort, and they had found Fleur and Krum among the hedges. They had assumed that Voldemort or his lackey in the school - who had turned out to be Moody, or Crouch as it were - had killed Cedric.

They never suspected Harry for an instant. He had seen Snape watching him, though. Perhaps Snape knew. But he hadn't said anything.

Harry hadn't been able to say anything anyway. He was too horrified. He lay back on the small bed and stared out the window. The books curled close, curiously warm. Slowly, sick inside, he fell asleep.

---

Ron and Hermione came into his compartment on the train chattering. Harry smiled weakly at them.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione scolded, "don't listen to them." Ron nodded along and Hermione made a bid to change the conversation before she and Ron had to leave to attend to their Prefect duties.

Harry had been stunned, when he got on the train, to see the faces of almost the entire school turned to him in anger and suspicion. At first, with horror, he believed that they had found out about the murder.

He had moved numbly to his compartment, but left the door open. He wanted to hear what they said. Then, listening closer, he heard that everyone thought he was mad for saying Voldemort had come back. Well.

He had certainly lied about some things, but not that. At first he had been annoyed, but then grateful. It was _almost_ as if the school knew about Cedric, and was punishing him. Except for his friends, of course, but he supposed he'd have to learn to live with their kindness without feeling that horrible guilt.

---

Harry grimaced as he wrote. The magic of the quill cut into the back of his hand, carving his own words there. He stared at his hand, horrified. But after barely a pause, he began to write. _I will not tell lies, I will not tell lies._

Quickly he became engrossed in the lines. And as the ache and burn on the back of his hand grew, the quivering sickness inside him ceased.

---

It was odd, Harry figured, that the Headmaster wanted him to learn Occlumency. He had been studying it for some time from his books. And it was especially odd that he wanted Harry to learn from Snape. The Headmaster couldn't have picked a less trustworthy man had he tried.

Harry went to the lesson warily. He believed that Snape knew he had killed Cedric. The man had seemed tolerant of Harry in the year following Sirius's confession. Snape had heard what happened, and though he had been tricked and taunted by Sirius in his youth, he had almost seemed sympathetic.

And he had been kinder to Harry for a short while. But not this year. Snape had been worse than ever after Cedric's death. He took pleasure in every miniscule failure of Harry's taunting him about them and trying to make him fight back. As if he knew, but couldn't prove it, and was doing everything he could to make Harry crack.

It had only been Harry's depression and self-loathing that had allowed him to resist these taunts. For the first part of the year he had truly felt that he deserved them. But now Harry knew better.

He had made a mistake. A horrible, unimaginable mistake, but a mistake. He had never, not in his wildest dreams, wanted to kill Cedric. This was something he could move past. He could do better. And he would.

Harry smiled softly as his feet carried him towards the Potions classroom. He had read about Occlumency – and art of the mind. Snape would be attempting to read his mind. But Harry was not unfamiliar with the process of the art. And when the Headmaster had informed him of the lessons, he had done some extra research.

Snape was in for a surprise. He would not gleam Harry's secrets.

---

Harry gasped as he woke from the dream. He thought that he had mastered Occlumency, but he hadn't been able to stop Voldemort from slipping past his defenses and into his mind. Snape had been thrown out of his mind and called him an idiot as a result, and he hadn't dreamt of Voldemort and his damned meetings for ages. He was panting.

Ron leaned over to him "What's wrong, mate?" Harry shook his head.

He couldn't tell Ron that he was dreaming again, not after all this time and all their worry. He shook his head again and plastered on a fake smile. "Weird dream. Malfoy was a giant ferret. Chasing me."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Eww, mate. Keep that sort of thing to yourself." Harry nodded back, and Ron looked away.

But he couldn't concentrate for the rest of the class. When they were dismissed he bolted, leaving Ron far behind, looking confused. He had to get away. He had to get to the Ministry. The dream had been horrible and he knew, deep down, that that was why it had gotten by his defenses.

Like the dream about Mr Weasley and the snake. Harry had dreamt this because he could do something about it. He wouldn't fail this time, he vowed, shuddering away from the thought of his failure and Cedric's death. He would save Sirius.

---

His fingers lay still across the pages of the book. Its pages curled up and around his fingers, stealing comfort from his presence. He smiled faintly, instead of crying as he wished. He stroked the pages flat, and continued reading.

Sirius had died because he had failed. He had killed Bellatrix Lestrange in the Ministry, and was glad for it, but he had failed. He had been a fool to try and rescue Sirius alone, when he could have brought friends to help him.

There had been too many Death Eaters, and when they had subdued Harry, they had called Sirius to let him know what his stupid godson had done. And Sirius had come running, and died. Harry had barely escaped with his life.

He needed to learn more if he was to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters, as that horrible prophecy stated. He couldn't believe that there was a prophecy about him, but Professor Dumbledore had shown him.

He had read about prophecies in his books, and they had always seemed horrible, leading to death for all involved. Harry didn't want that. He didn't what to die. And he especially didn't want anyone else he knew to die. It would be too horrible, and it would tear him apart.

So though his head ached and pounded, he continued to read by the meager glow of the light on the street outside.

---

He stared at Kreacher, ho was shivering on the floor in his room. Harry had received a letter from the Ministry of Magic, granting him everything that had belonged to Sirius as inheritance. And that apparently included his house elf.

So he had called Kreacher, and the elf had come and begun immediately bowing. "How may I serve Master?" He asked. Harry was taken aback. Kreacher had always hated Sirius, and everyone else, too. Harry really hadn't seen him often, but he didn't remember Kreacher ever being nice to him.

"Why are you calling me Master, Kreacher?"

"You are my Master now, Master. And a worthy Master. You study the true magics and shall be a good Master, a worthy Master, Master."

Harry stared. He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Kreacher serving him. He hadn't even thought that the elf would answer when called. He had simply been curious. "You can go now, Kreacher."

"Of course, Master. Such a good and kind Master. So kind." Then he was gone.

Harry didn't like the sound of any of it. Kreacher liked him because of the 'true magics', he had said. He liked Harry because Harry was practicing and studying Dark Magic.

A sick feeling of guilt chilled Harry. He was practicing Dark Magic secretly. No one knew, and no one would approve. Yet, he needed to do it. He didn't know of any other way to win. And he needed, more than anything, to win.

---

The Headmaster had come to pick Harry up. He had been very secretive, but soon Harry understood why. Dumbledore had taken Harry and used him to attract their new Potions professor, and then taken Harry back to his office. And he had told Harry about Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Harry had been hard-pressed to keep a confused and innocent face. He had read about Horcruxes before. He knew a good amount about them, thanks to his books. But he also knew that they were the Darkest of magics, being one of the few spells to require human sacrifice.

The thought of Voldemort using them was enough to make Harry nauseous. And the fact that Tom had been a Horcrux, and had beguiled Harry into trusting him, made it even worse.

The spell that Voldemort had used to revive himself had not required human sacrifice. Wormtail's hand perhaps, but hardly his life. Horcruxes, though... Harry liked to steer clear of them, or any mention of them at all.

He stared at the Headmaster's hand as the old man talked. It was dark and shriveled, and it twitched sporadically as the Headmaster spoke. It made Harry sick to his stomach, and watching it, he knew that he would have to destroy these Horcruxes before he could kill the Dark Lord.

---

Snape was up to something. When Harry grew sick and tired of studying and took a break to walk around the castle, he would often see Snape hurrying somewhere. So one day, he followed the man.

Snape was rushing through the halls when Harry spotted him. He threw a quick concealment spell of – mere disillusionment, nothing Darker – and followed. In the dim twilight he followed Snape outside. The man walked across the open ground directly in front of the castle and stopped by the lake. He stopped and sat suddenly on a nearby rock, completely silent.

Was this it? Harry was confused. Snape had been rushing about…simply to watch the sun set? I seemed odd. Perhaps he was waiting for someone or something. Determined to solve this mystery while he still had the time, Harry sat and waited as well.

Soon enough, Snape's partner arrived. It was the Headmaster. The old man walked silently across the ground in font of the school, despite his long, outlandish robes. His withered hand was tucked feebly up against his side.

The Headmaster's eyes met Harry's as he walked past him to Snape. Harry froze for a moment, then followed. He didn't know if the Headmaster had seen him. If he had, he certainly hadn't said anything. Maybe he wanted Harry along.

Snape stood quickly glancing around. "I don't like this sot of meeting, Headmaster"

"What sort of meeting?" the old man replied lightly. "A meeting at twilight? A meeting outside? A meeting with _me_?"

Snape scowled. "A meeting outside, you very well know. There is no security at all. Anyone could be listening." Harry blushed and moved more slowly as he followed the strolling professors. He might be seen if he moved too fast.

Dumbledore didn't reply for a long moment. "I fear, Severus, that the time for secrecy is past. I need to know your answer."

"To what question? I can't simply…"

"Don't fool around Severus. I need to know, and I need to know now. Can you kill me?"

Harry nearly choked on his own breath. Dumbledore wanted Snape to kill him? That was unbelievable.

"Headmaster, I don't know how you expect…"

"Stop dawdling, Severus. You know that this curse," he said as he gestured with his blackened hand, "will kill me within the next few months. If I am to be useful at all you must kill me soon. Draco cannot do it. He is too much of a coward."

Snape stiffened. "I am quite sure that Draco can do whatever is necessary."

"And I am certain that he cannot. He is merely a boy. A no matter what Lord Voldemort expects of him, he is not a killer."

Harry slowed down and finally sat on the grass as he thought. Malfoy was trying to kill the Headmaster. That was where all those incidents and near-deaths had come from throughout the year. He had wondered, but been to busy studying to investigate.

Malfoy had obviously failed, and so now…Snape was forced to complete the crime. He didn't really understand. He knew that the Headmaster was saying anyway. Why did the old man have to die on Voldemort's terms, and not his own.

But…perhaps he was dying on his own terms. Here Dumbledore was, forcing Snape to kill him. He didn't want to die by Voldemort's curse. Harry knew that the curse had come from a Horcrux. Maybe the curse itself would benefit Voldemort if Dumbledore died by it. It might harvest power from his death.

Harry had read about such spells. If so, then it was right that Snape kill the Headmaster. Dumbledore trusted him, and Snape appeared to be the only person capable of accommodating the old man's wishes. Harry stared at the pair as they kept walking.. The sun had set some minutes ago on their conversation.

Harry headed back to the castle thinking. Death could be a mighty force in magic, if used correctly. Perhaps that was the solution to his problem…the problem of destroying Voldemort and his Horcruxes.

Death.

---

After months of planning, Harry had created a perfect plan to destroy the Dark Lord and all his Horcruxes at once.

The first part of his plan was simple. Because the Horcruxes had been created by unwilling sacrifice, Harry knew that another, willing, sacrifice would counter their power, and allow him to kill Voldemort.

But he also needed to find the Horcruxes, in a magical sense if not physical, and that proved to be trickier than he had originally planned. It had taken him almost his entire sixth year to find the perfect spell. And by the time he had located the spell, it had been too late for the Headmaster.

The man was dying when he took Harry to find one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. The locket was a fake, and Snape had killed Dumbledore. Harry didn't blame Snape, for that, though he had many other bones to pick with the man. The man had done the best thing – honoring his vows and saving the Headmaster from a lingering death.

But Harry knew that his calm acceptance of Snape's actions had only served to make the man more suspicious of him. He would have to be careful in laying out this spell. Any interruptions, especially by a suspicious and desperate Potions Master, could be deadly.

The morning after Dumbledore's funeral, he began to cast his spell. The school was abandoned, students going home and teachers either fled or trying to salvage what was left of the school's authority at the Ministry. So Harry was left alone to finish the war.

He chose the Quidditch field for the runes and spell patterns that he needed to lay out. The spell was old, and Harry had found it in a contemporary book of medieval magic that had been housed in the Black Library at Grimmauld place. If the diagrams were placed correctly and the words pronounced correctly, the spell would summon and bind a demon. The demon could then find and retrieve anything in the world.

He had chosen the Quidditch Pitch because of Cedric's death. The power of that death would serve to anchor his spell.

He began with arithmancy, laying out patterns of line, carving them into the grass of the field. Then he placed his runes carefully. He had gathered his books - some in his arms and some floating behind him - and brought them to the stands surrounding the field. He laid them down and began to work, burning the runes deeply into the earth.

At times, when he needed help or confirmation with his theories, he would call out and a book would fly to him, giving him the information that he needed. When he completed the last rune he stepped back and felt the magic flare to life, dripping malevolence. It was heady, and Dark. He could feel Cedric's death in the spell, as well as the energy leftover from hundreds of Quidditch games, fans screaming bloodthirstily for their team.

He smiled, finally relieved. The time had come at last. He could use this spell to destroy Voldemort and his Horcruxes at once, and _win_. He laughed. Finally. _Finally._

Harry stepped forward, into the rush of the spell, leaving his books behind. His hair stirred and robes flapped around him. He stopped in the center of his spell pattern, and took a deep breath. The spell was simple, but deadly when tied to the pattern he had laid out. He needed to be careful. He raised his wand directly in front of himself, pointed down.

"_Vocare ego eradica._" As he called out the spell, he concentrated on his intentions. He needed this demon to come, and obey him. After a moment the spell's Dark energy flared, and grew, until Harry nearly fell to his knees in the face of it. Somehow, he managed to gird himself and stand.

He felt the demon surround him, but it didn't harm him. When he was sure that the demon was present and would obey him, he spoke, "Bring me Voldemort's Horcruxes." The power flared, and almost immediately items began appearing in he diagram of his spell.

There was a small crown, a heavy locket, a golden cup, and the snake, Nagini. As the items appeared Harry felt a tugging within him. It must be his connection with Voldemort. He staggered slightly. He seized upon each Horcrux in his mind in his mind, stomach churning at the feel of them - their crippled presence and their pure malevolence.

And he reached through his connection, feeling for the first time in years the brush of that angry and sickened mind against his.

Then he slowly turned his wand to himself and sealed the spell. Here was the willing sacrifice, then. With this spell every bit of Voldemort would be destroyed. He steeled himself. "_Piaculum._"

At the spell Harry fell to the ground and into darkness, and breathed no more.

---

He woke in the hospital wing, disbelieving. He had seen Dumbledore, had seen the Headmaster. Harry had believed that he would die in the completion of his spell. That was why he had sent Ron and Hermione on, told them that he would see them at the wedding. He knew that he would have to make a willing sacrifice to kill Voldemort and his Horcruxes. He could have used no one else's death.

After he had died, he had awoken to a kind of King's Cross Station, where Dumbledore - or his spirit - had been waiting. The man had told him everything - about Harry being a Horcrux, about Snape being a spy and actually good - and Harry was amazed. It seemed that he had missed a lot as he had studied to kill Voldemort.

And after the former Headmaster had finished speaking, Harry had explained how he had killed Voldemort. Dumbledore had not approved completely of his use of Dark Magic, but he understood.

"The important thing, Harry," he had said with a twinkle in his eye, "is that you did not give in to the temptation of Dark Magic. You took responsibility and sacrificed yourself and no one else. I think that truly, you have found the true power of Dark Magic, and have used it as it was meant to be used."

Harry had blushed at the praise. After all the time since the Triwizard Tournament, and since Dumbledore had told him the prophecy, Harry finally felt free of guilt. Harry even told Dumbledore about killing Cedric. The Headmaster had appeared grave, but said, "I too made horrible mistakes in my youth. But we both recognize our mistakes, and thus have found a way to make up for them."

When they had finished talking Dumbledore had extended his hand, healed once more, and shook Harry's. "You must return now, Harry. It is not your time. You have killed Voldemort and fulfilled the prophecy. Now, live you life, and be careful of what you read!"

Darkness had overcome him then, and so Harry had awoken in the hospital wing.

It was quiet there, and slowly he sat up, looking around. The hospital wing was deserted. He stood, pulled the thin gown close around him, and went looking for the mediwitch. He found her as she came out of the door to her office and nearly ran into him. She staggered back with shock, then pursed her lips and frowned. "Mr Potter, what are you doing? Get back into bed this instant."

He blinked then walked back to bed. He had, honestly, expected some sort of comment about Voldemort before anything else. So he sat and waited as she took his pulse and checked all sorts of other things with her spells. It was odd, he realized as he watched her. She seemed to not want to touch him at all. "The Headmistress will be here shortly," she said after a moment, before walking quickly away.

Soon enough, McGonagall arrived, with Professor Snape behind her. Harry was startled at the man's appearance. He knew that the man was innocent, or at least justified, in Dumbledore's death, but since when did everyone else? Snape glowered more fiercely than usual. The Headmistress frowned as well, but sat next to Harry's bed.

"We are all very glad to see you well, Mr Potter. Perhaps you could tell us what spell it was you were working on the Quidditch Pitch. The Ministry has concluded that it was indeed the spell that killed He...Lord Voldemort, but little else." She stopped, waiting for his reply. Harry tried to swallow his alarm.

He couldn't tell her. The spell was Dark Magic, and though Dumbledore was forgiving, he didn't imagine that anyone else would be. He smiled shakily at her. "It was arithmancy, ma'am." He paused, trying to think of what to say. Then it dawned on him. "I was only doing what Professor Dumbledore told me to do, before he...died. I don't know much about it, really. Maybe I'll be able to tell you more later. I am very tired." He looked away, and so did she. Then she smiled tightly and leaned down.

"It was very brave of you, Harry, to carry out his wishes so. We are all _very_ proud." Then she swept away. Harry sighed with relief. Thankfully she hadn't pushed any further. He would have to think up a better explanation. He couldn't keep putting off suspicions with mentions of Dumbledore.

Then he realized that Snape was still there. The man swooped down, grasping Harry's wrist with nails like talons before he could act. "Ahh!" Harry cried out and tried to pull away, but couldn't. Snape leaned closer and sneered, his thick breath making Harry choke and hold his breath.

"I know that magic you used, Potter." Harry's eye widened. "Yes, I know. The Darkest of Dark Magic. And you will not get away with it. Not while I still live." And he swept away.

---

Harry stood in Grimmauld Place, with the many books that he had stolen from Restricted Section, those that had followed him and hidden in his trunk, and the many books of the Black Library soaring in the air around him. He needed to find a way to keep Snape silent about what he had seen on the Quidditch Pitch without killing him. So he had asked his books.

They had responded eagerly.

Finally they settled. A thick book floated up to him, and fell open on his outstretched palms. He read the page facing him. A spell based on a Muggle gag, it appeared to be. A Petrification of the mouth, in a way. He frowned. It required a blood sacrifice on the part of the victim. That meant that he would have to attack Snape. Snape would know what he was doing, and if Harry failed… He read further.

The spell inflicted immense pain when the victim tried to talk about the secrets that he was meant to stay silent about. Harry smiled faintly. Well, that was just perfect for Snape. After all the years of abuse he had inflicted on Harry, and his intention to destroy Harry's life now, he deserved a bit of pain. He walked into the front hall of the house, heading for the bedrooms with all his supplies, and practiced pronouncing the spell.

"_Coasilem._" He said it under he breath many times. Then his head jerked up. Someone was at his wards. He had set them up himself, with the Darkest books that he could find. No one should be able to break them.

Then, as he reached for his wand, he felt the wards snap. Several people poured in through his front door, including Severus Snape, Ron and Hermione, and several Aurors. Harry's eyes widened and he stumbled back.

What were they doing here? He stared, wide-eyed, Dark book in his hands and many more scattered throughout the halls of Grimmauld Place. Snape and the Aurors had their wands drawn, so Harry raised his hands and dropped the book, trying to look innocent.

If he could just get the Aurors to listen to him, he could explain. He would tell them that he had simply taken the books out of the Black library, and was trying to get rid of the ones on Dark Magic. He was only trying to get rid of hem, not use them for anything...

Then Hermione bent down and picked up one of the books. She frowned as she read the title, then looked at Harry. "_Letum Firea_? Oh, Harry, this book is..." She pursed her lips and trailed off. Damn her for having picked up that particular book. It was one of the worst. Then he saw her fingers stroke the edges of the pages and move to open the book.

"No!" He cried out and moved towards her. But before he had done anything she had opened the book and was screaming - ashy, crumbling orbs sat where her eyes had once been. Harry choked, halting. Damn it, she knew his books were dangerous. _Why_ _had she opened it?_

Harry choked back a sob as a few Aurors pulled her out the front door and apparated away. Ron followed them, not even giving Harry a glance.

Harry's knees gave out under him and he sank to the ground. His hands rose to cover his mouth. Snape moved towards him. "You have obviously gone far beyond obsession, Potter. You are a danger to yourself and the whole Wizarding World. Why, you cannot even keep yourself from hurting your..._best friends_" The man finished in a hiss, and smirked. The Aurors moved forwards and surrounded Harry.

Harry stared at Snape for a moment, then snarled. "You stupid, fucking bastard! If you hadn't come here, brought them, then none--"

"Don't blame me Potter. It was your own...proclivities that destroyed your friends. You have no one to blame but yourself!"

Harry spat silently, overcome by his rage. It boiled through him. How dare Snape? Harry had everything under control. _Snape_ was the one who had had to meddle. "I'll kill you!" The books rustled softly on the floor.

Harry moved slightly to grab his wand, and was quickly tied up by the Aurors' spells. Snape smirked and Harry shrieked at him.

The books lifted from the floor, fluttering and flying through the air with a sound like a flock of a thousand birds, and fell upon Snape. He screamed once, gurgled, and was silent. The Aurors stared at the massive pile of books that lay where Snape had been, eyes huge. Then they turned back to Harry.

He was laughing, lying on the floor and rolling in his bonds. Harry laughed and laughed, not thinking at all, not thinking anything. The Aurors crept forward, though he didn't notice them, and stunned him. Eying each other, they dragged him towards the front door with a spell, not confident enough to touch him.

"What do you think, then?"

The other exhaled, looking at the unconscious Harry. "Dunno, mate. You think he'll go to Azkaban?"

"Well, I'd sure hope so," the other laughed. "I wouldn't feel safe in my bed if he was anywhere else."

* * *

_AN: So, this is my longest one-shot so far to be completed. I hope you all enjoyed it. _


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